The Lincoln Myth (49 page)

Interesting that she’d not been offered a weapon.

S
ALAZAR HAD NEVER BEFORE VENTURED BEYOND
S
ALT
L
AKE
into the wilderness the pioneers had traversed. But here he was, among the trees and mountains of Deseret, where the first Saints
had passed on their way to the promised land. Those early settlers were so different from other western immigrants. They employed no professional guides, preferring to find their own way. They also improved the route as they traveled, making it better for the next group. They were cohesive, moving as one, a culture, a faith, a people—modern pilgrims, routed from their homes by intolerance and persecution—intent on finding their salvation on earth.

It took two years for the first group to trek 1,300 miles from Illinois to the Great Basin. Eventually, 1,650 made it to the valley in 1847. That first year had been tough, but the next was tougher. Spring plantings had looked promising, but hordes of crickets soon invaded—
three to four a leaf
, as one Saint described—and began to devour the crops. They fought back with brooms, sticks, fire, and water. Anything and everything. Prayers, too. Which were finally answered by a sight from heaven. Seagulls. Which swooped in by the thousands and devoured the insects.

The Miracle of the Gulls.

Some say it was exaggerated. Others that it never happened. But he believed every word. Why wouldn’t he? God and the prophets always provided—so why would it be impossible that help would appear at just the right moment? The seagull remained Utah’s state bird, and he was sure that would be the case with the soon-to-be independent nation of Deseret.

He felt invigorated.

Soon, once again, all of this would be theirs.

“This is a special place,” he told Cassiopeia.

“There’s nothing here,” Cassiopeia said.

“We have to hike.
Falta Nada
is nearby.”

He heard the growl of an engine and turned to see a small red coupe approaching. The car stopped and Elder Rowan emerged, dressed in boots and jeans, ready for the wilderness.

They greeted each other with a handshake.

“It’s good to see you again, brother,” Rowan said. “This is a great day, equal to the moment when the pioneers first arrived. If we’re successful, everything will change.”

He, too, was energized by the possibilities.

Rowan noticed Cassiopeia. “And who is this?”

He introduced them. “She’s been invaluable the past few days. She’s the one who obtained the watch, only to have it stolen back.”

“You haven’t mentioned her,” Rowan said.

“I know. Her involvement came about quickly.”

He explained how he and Cassiopeia had known each other since childhood, how they’d once been close, drifted apart, and were now reuniting. Rowan seemed pleased with her reawakening, and the fact that her family were among the early European converts.

“I actually recall your father,” Rowan said. “In the 1970s I was working with the church in Europe. He headed the stake in Barcelona, if I recall. A truly spiritual and dedicated man.”

“Thank you for saying that. I always thought so, too.”

Where at first there’d been apprehension in the elder’s eyes at Cassiopeia’s presence, now there was calm. Perhaps from knowing that she was a Saint by birth?

“Cassiopeia is aware of what we’re doing. She also helped fend off the Americans in Salzburg. She and I are discussing a personal future together.”

He hoped he wasn’t being too presumptuous with the revelation.

“I’d like her to be a part of this,” he said.

“Then she shall,” Rowan said. “We’ve come a long way, brother. There were times when I doubted we’d make it this far. But we’re here. So let us all go and claim our prize.”

Salazar faced his two men. “Stay here and keep watch. We can contact each other by phone, if need be.”

The two Danites nodded.

None of what was about to happen was for their eyes.

He turned toward Elder Rowan.

“Please, lead the way.”

R
OWAN HAD VISITED HERE BEFORE, ONCE, YEARS AGO. THE
prophet who’d served before Charles Snow had held a retreat for the elders. They’d spent three days praying, making decisions that would govern the church for years to come. Since then, he’d heard little about the site, though he knew it was still maintained. The house had been built about fifty years ago, remodeled several times since. Two hundred and forty acres of forest surrounded the building, all owned by the church. As best he could recall a private security firm kept an eye on everything, so at some point he might have to deal with them. Unlikely, though, they would give the second-highest-ranking church official any trouble.

He led the way into the trees, following a defined path that wound through the woods, climbing in elevation. Saints had mainly settled along the western front of the Wasatch Range, where the rivers drained, founding 25 towns against a hundred miles of mountain frontage. Eighty-five percent of Utah’s population still lived within fifteen miles of the Wasatch Range, two million people, on what was simply called the Front. The eastern slopes were gentler, home to ski resorts. Here, on the western edge, the terrain was far more rugged and 5,000 feet higher than in Salt Lake. The idea of
Falta Nada
had been to fashion something reminiscent of the early days, and through the trees he caught a glimpse of the three-story house. Massive hand-hewn logs had been notched and fitted together, mortar filling the cracks and outlining the aged timber with thick gray lines. Large bay windows dotted the ground floor, more windows above, the house a pleasing mix of wood, stone, and glass. It sat within a hundred yards of a mountain, a zigzag trail winding upward through the trees.

“The house is not
Falta Nada,
” he told them. “It was built after the refuge was discovered.”

“So where are we headed?” Salazar asked as they kept walking.

He pointed at the mountain. “Inside there.”

SIXTY-THREE

L
UKE ROUNDED A CURVE IN THE DIRT ROAD AND SPOTTED TWO
cars parked ahead. They’d left the interstate thirty minutes ago and an asphalt road a couple of miles back, following the Navigator’s GPS. Stephanie had sat beside him the whole way and said little. Malone and Snow in the backseat had likewise been quiet for a while. Everyone seemed anxious. He was just ready to get on with it. Ahead he spotted two men standing near vehicles.

“Those are the same two guys from Salzburg,” Malone said. “I doubt they’ll be happy to see me.”

“I can handle them,” Snow said. “Ease close on my side.”

Luke brought the car to a stop, and the prophet lowered his window. Both Danites stood ready, hands beneath their jackets surely on weapons. Luke’s right hand found his own automatic.

“Do you know who I am?” Snow asked.

They nodded.

“Then you will do exactly as I say. Is that clear?”

Both remained silent.

“I am your prophet,” Snow said. “You are sworn to protect me, are you not?”

The men nodded again.

“
Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth the horse’s heels so that his rider shall fall backward
. You know the significance of those words?”

“From Genesis,” one said. “We are sworn to live by them.”

“Then remove your weapons and drop them to the ground.”

They did as Snow ordered.

“Stand back and wait.”

The window whined closed.

“I shall pray with these poor sinners for forgiveness,” Snow said. “You three have a job to do.”

Luke caught Stephanie’s glare, the first time she’d looked his way. They’d talked on the phone earlier, just after he and Malone had arrived in Utah. She’d told him what had to be done, none of which he particularly liked. Her stare now asked if he understood that—like the Danites outside—he, too, was sworn to duty.

He gave a nod.

“I will pray for your success,” Snow said. Luke turned and faced the prophet.

“Old man, you’re foolin’ no one. You led Rowan and Salazar here because this godforsaken place is in the middle of nowhere. Now you want us to go and do your dirty work. So let’s don’t cast this with any sense of righteousness. There’s nothin’ right or sacred here.”

“I must apologize,” Stephanie said, “for my agent’s rudeness.”

“He’s correct,” Snow said. “There is nothing righteous about this. It is a despicable business. I’ve wondered all night if this is how Brigham Young himself felt when he ordered those wagons taken and the gold returned? He had to have known that men would die. But he had no choice. And neither do I.”

Luke opened his door and stepped out.

Malone and Stephanie followed.

The two Danites reacted to Malone’s appearance, retrieving their weapons.

“He is our enemy,” one of them said.

“No, he’s not,” the prophet said. “Your enemy is far more complex.”

Neither man backed down.

“I will not say it again,” Snow said. “Drop those guns and do as I say. Or pay the price in heaven.”

The two tossed the guns back down.

Snow motioned for them to leave. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Stephanie led the way toward the trail.

“You’re not going to hurt her,” Malone said.

Stephanie stopped and faced her former employee. “And you think I would?”

“Depends on what happens.”

“I’ve been ordered to make sure that nothing leaves this spot that could jeopardize the future of the United States of America.”

“Fine. Do your job. But you and Frat Boy here better know, right now, nobody is going to hurt her. Period.”

“I also have a job to do,” Luke said.

“Do it. But if you make a move on Cassiopeia I’ll kill you.”

Luke did not like to be threatened. Never had. But Stephanie had also ordered him not to provoke Malone. They would deal with Cassiopeia as the situation developed. She’d warned him that Malone would know the score, better to rock him to sleep than challenge him.

They weren’t here to win battles, only the war.

M
ALONE MEANT EVERY WORD HE SAID
. H
E
’
D SHOOT THE
F
RAT
Boy dead if any harm came to Cassiopeia. He’d sensed the gravity of the situation from Stephanie’s silence, knowing that every loose end of this operation had to be snipped tight. Stephanie, Luke, himself? They were pros. Sworn to secrecy. No danger of them revealing anything. But Rowan, Salazar, and Cassiopeia? They were an entirely different matter. Especially Cassiopeia, who was not thinking like herself. He possessed the greatest respect for Stephanie, even understood her quandary—orders were orders—and the stakes were the
highest he could ever remember. But that changed nothing. And if Cassiopeia was too involved to look after herself, he’d do it for her.